


Five Things Jenkins Has Learned About Ezekiel Jones

by graysonsen



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7346596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsen/pseuds/graysonsen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See the title, basically. The first few parts of this were previously posted on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Jenkins Has Learned About Ezekiel Jones

_1\. He likes being told what to do_

He doesn't always _do_ what he's told, of course, or at least not without a fairly consistently remarkable amount of arguing and protestations, but he seems to enjoy being asked, relishing the opportunity of challenging even the slightest, most flimsy authority. 

"Take off your clothes," Jenkins says.

"Why?" Ezekiel immediately replies, like it's a reflex.

Jenkins gives him an impatient glare. "Why?" he says, sarcastic. "Well, goodness, I can't think why." He shakes his head in faked puzzlement. "Can't come up with a single reason, as it happens."

"Calm down, mate," Ezekiel says, grinning, pulling his shirt over his head. "God, you're so cranky."

And Jenkins opens his mouth to reply, but finds himself as distracted as ever by Ezekiel's body, which, no matter how many times he sees it, never seems to become any less extraordinary. 

Ezekiel basks in the attention, running one hand over his chest, thumb stroking across his nipples, watching Jenkins' reactions.

"Put your hands against the wall," he orders, voice hoarse, and Ezekiel shoots him a sly look but this time doesn't argue, turning to brace his hands on the wall, leaning into it, sticking his ass out behind him, so blatant it's almost _obscene_.

Jenkins takes a few steps closer, but doesn't touch Ezekiel. He's still fully-clothed: jacket on, bow tie not even loosened.

"Are you going to fuck me?" Ezekiel asks.

"I don't know," Jenkins replies. "Do you think you deserve to be fucked?"

"I think I _always_ deserve to be fucked," answers Ezekiel confidently.

"Hmm," muses Jenkins. "We'll see." He runs his palms down Ezekiel's body, over his ribs, and lowers himself to his knees. For a few moments he doesn't do anything, and then he shuffles closer, hands either side of Ezekiel's ass, feeling the muscles flex and release under his touch. 

Jenkins spreads him wide, breathing in, starting with tentative, teasing licks, barely enough, he knows. Ezekiel's tensed, clenched tight like he always is to start with, so worked up that it takes him time to relax into it. Jenkins dips the tip of his tongue in, then circles it over the puckered skin, and he can _feel_ it, the moment Ezekiel starts to relax, begins to open up for him.

He moves back enough that he can spit on Ezekiel's hole, make sure he's good and wet, and this time he goes in in earnest, tongue deep inside Ezekiel, fucking it in and out. 

"Oh god," Ezekiel says, hips jerking forward.

"Stay still," Jenkins orders, knowing it probably won't do any good, so he wraps his arm around Ezekiel's waist, pulling him in, holding him in place.

He dives back in, and he could do this all day, taste Ezekiel hot under his tongue, listen to him moan and whimper, watch him fall apart, utterly and completely at Jenkins' mercy. He could do anything, he knows. Almost anything, and Ezekiel would take it.

"Do you want me to fuck you now?" he says, quietly, punctuating the question with a sharp bite of Ezekiel's ass, brief, but hard enough to leave a mark.

"Yes," Ezekiel hisses out.

"Say it."

"I want you to fuck me."

"Say please."

Even through the obvious fog of his arousal, Ezekiel still laughs. "No fucking way."

"Say it," Jenkins repeats. "I can wait." And if there's anything Ezekiel has to have learned by now, it's exactly how long Jenkins can wait.

He sighs in frustration. _"Please,"_ he mutters, petulant and ungracious, and Jenkins smiles.

 

_2\. He's incapable of actually asking for what he wants_

He'll make it very, _very_ obvious what he wants, but he won't ever make the concession of putting it into words, actually requesting it. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, Jenkins strongly suspects this may have something to do with Ezekiel being afraid of rejection, of being told 'no', but that's a conversation for another day.

Not for tonight, when they're here on Jenkins' bed, kissing. Jenkins is sitting up, leaning back against the headboard with his legs extended out in front of him, and Ezekiel is straddling his thighs. 

After a while, he pulls back, gives Jenkins a quick but filthy smile, and then lies down, draping himself sideways across Jenkins' legs, face down. His ass is precisely positioned over Jenkins' lap, the high, firm rounds of it temptingly smooth, and it couldn't be clearer what he wants. And while Jenkins finds the idea of that particular thing so deliciously arousing he can hardly stand to think of it, he's still irritated that Ezekiel can't for once actually _ask_ for something.

So instead of making any move, he says, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Ezekiel replies, shifting back and forth on Jenkins' lap, raising his ass even further into the air, hard cock brushing against Jenkins' legs.

Jenkins sighs. "You just decided to lie here like this? No special reason?"

"Nope," says Ezekiel. "I mean, if it gives you any ideas, then, you know…" He looks back over his shoulder at Jenkins with a grin. "Feel free to act on them."

Jenkins knows there's no use in arguing, because Ezekiel will never concede the point, so instead, without the slightest build-up, he raises his hand and brings it down on Ezekiel's ass with as much force as he can muster, the blow resounding delightfully with the stinging slap of flesh meeting flesh.

"Um, _ow,"_ Ezekiel says. "That hurt."

Jenkins can't help feeling pettily satisfied at how genuinely _outraged_ he sounds. "Yes, Mr. Jones," he replies mildly, "I believe that's the idea of it."

Ezekiel huffs indignantly. "I thought spanking was supposed to be sexy, not hurty."

"Done properly, it's both." And Jenkins doesn't give Ezekiel a chance to reply, lifting his hand and landing another blow, this time on the other side of Ezekiel's ass, not hesitating for even a moment as he continues on, strike after strike of his open palm, and Ezekiel is soon muttering under his breath, squirming in Jenkins' lap. His ass is reddening nicely, a deep blush spreading over his skin, and Jenkins pauses, dragging the back of his fingertips lightly over the abused area.

Ezekiel jumps at the sudden tenderness, visibly flinching. "Fuck," he says. "Fuck fuck _fuck."_

"Have you had enough?" Jenkins asks.

It takes Ezekiel a few seconds to answer, and his voice is thick, unsteady. "I don't know," he says. "Maybe."

"No," says Jenkins, shaking his head. "I don't think so." He strokes his thumb over Ezekiel's ass, enjoying the desperate moan the touch elicits. "Not yet."

He raises his hand again.

 

_3\. He can't admit he's not seeing anyone else_

"So, Jones," Stone drawls out. "Good weekend?"

"Awesome, mate," Ezekiel replies. "Fucking _awesome._ Went to the club, had some fun."

It's not like Jenkins is deliberately trying to eavesdrop, but he's the next row of shelves over so he can't help hearing. And rolling his eyes, because Ezekiel happens to have spent the entire weekend in Jenkins' bed, and a fair amount of that time with Jenkins' cock in his ass. 

"Some fun, huh?" Jake says. "Take anyone home?"

"Oh yeah," says Ezekiel, and Jenkins wanders closer, idly dragging one finger along the edge of the bookshelf nearest to him, listening as Ezekiel goes on. "This hot chick and her boyfriend were all over me. Ended up going back to their place, fucked them both."

"Both?" asks Jake.

"Both. First her, then him."

"You're full of shit, man."

"Hand to god," Ezekiel says. "On my honor as a thief."

"Bullshit," Jake replies, but there's a good-natured tone of affection in his voice. "Hold on," he says, "I gotta go cross-reference this." 

Jenkins hears him leave, and he waits a minute, then wanders over, holding an open book in front of him, pretending to be preoccupied by what he's reading. "I don't recall that being how you spent your weekend, Mr. Jones," he remarks drily.

Ezekiel smiles. "You don't know that. Maybe I snuck out while you were asleep, went clubbing, got some, then was back before you woke up."

Jenkins raises his eyebrows. "No, I _think_ I would have noticed that."

"Well, what you do want me to say? You want me to tell him we're fucking?" 

"Of course not, but you don't have to say _that."_

"Why not?" Ezekiel shrugs. "It doesn't matter, he probably doesn't believe me anyway."

"Then why lie?"

"I'm not lying."

"You are."

"I'm not, I fuck other people all the time," Ezekiel says, breezily casual.

Jenkins looks at him. "No you don't."

"I do."

_"When?"_

"Like… on missions and stuff."

"Fine," Jenkins replies, knowing perfectly well he's being childish. "Enjoy all your other people, then." 

He turns on his heel and is about to walk away when Ezekiel grabs his wrist. "Hey," he says. "Come on, don't be like that."

"Like what?" Jenkins asks impatiently.

"You're jealous." Ezekiel smirks at him.

"I'm not." And he's not, he's really not, because Jenkins truly wouldn't care if Ezekiel _was_ fucking anyone else. He's lived long enough to know that exclusivity isn't necessarily all it's reputed to be. It just rankles, in some small, ridiculous way, that Ezekiel can't admit he's not seeing anyone else, not even, it seems, to himself.

"Sure," Ezekiel says, taking hold of Jenkins' upper arms and backing him gently up against the nearest bookshelf. "But if it makes you feel any better, all those other hypothetical guys I fuck, their dicks are way smaller than yours."

"Really?" Jenkins can't stop himself from smiling.

"Oh, yeah. And I mean, none of them can do it like you." Ezekiel leans in, biting Jenkins' neck, hands roaming warm over his chest. "No one lasts as long as you, no one's ever fucked me like that."

"Now you _are_ lying."

"Actually, I'm not." Ezekiel falls to his knees, staring up at Jenkins, licking his lips as he unzips Jenkins' pants.

"You can't…" Jenkins takes a breath, tries to exercise some self-control, but Ezekiel is kissing the tip of his cock and oh _god_ , he can't think. But he gathers himself, and warns, "Stone will be back any minute."

"Well," Ezekiel says, grinning, "we better be quick then."

 

_4\. He pretends he doesn't like the things he likes_

"Are you actually ever going to like, _do_ anything?" Ezekiel complains. He's face down on the bed, spread eagled, each wrist and ankle fastened firmly to a bedpost. There's a couple of pillows propped under his hips, so his ass is angled up in a _very_ visually pleasing manner. Enough so that Jenkins could just sit here awhile, stare at it.

"Helloooo…" Ezekiel says, sighing. "You know I hate being tied up."

"You love being tied up," Jenkins tells him.

"I don't," Ezekiel argues. "Plus this is totally weak-ass tying, I could get out of this anytime I want."

Jenkins shakes his head in exasperation. He'd considered using cuffs, perhaps some leather straps, but he settled on soft ropes, using the knots that Houdini once taught him. Harry had guaranteed they were escape proof, too complex even for him.

"Then why don't you?" Jenkins asks. "Get out of it, I mean."

Ezekiel pauses, then answers, "Because I don't want to." He shifts on the bed, hips moving back and forth so temptingly it makes Jenkins' mouth water. "I could if I wanted to," he adds, unconvincingly, "but it's too easy."

"Ah," says Jenkins, climbing on to the bed, kneeling between Ezekiel's spread legs.

"But I still hate it." 

"Of course you do." 

"I only put up with it for you."

"You're so _noble."_

"I totally am."

Jenkins slicks up his fingers, then teases the tip of one at Ezekiel's hole. He doesn't go any further for a minute, enjoying Ezekiel's obvious impatience, waiting for him to protest. But even though he moves restlessly, he doesn't say anything, and Jenkins smiles to himself, pushing one finger in slowly, feeling tight heat clench around it. "Do you hate _this?"_ he asks, listening to Ezekiel gasp.

"I don't _hate_ it," he says, "but…"

"How about this?" Jenkins interrupts, sliding in another finger, then another. Three now, and he waits until he can see Ezekiel is just about to speak and then curls all three fingers at the perfect angle, knowing exactly where to find that particular spot.

Ezekiel's whole body jerks at the touch, briefly straining at the ropes, but the knots don't budge, not in the slightest. "I don't hate that, no," he answers, hoarse now, and Jenkins might enjoy this best of all, making that studied, self-assured veneer that Ezekiel wears like a second skin crack and break until it falls away.

"Don't come," he says. "Not until I tell you."

"Fuck," Ezekiel mutters, the word punctuated by a low, desperate moan. "God, you're such a dick sometimes."

"I thought that was what you liked about me."

"Yeah, well, you were wrong."

"Perhaps," Jenkins allows, shrugging, pressing down more firmly, watching Ezekiel's reaction with a satisfied smirk.

 

_5\. Sometimes, when you least expect it, he can surprise you._

They're done for the night, both thoroughly spent and sated. Ezekiel is lying on his side, and Jenkins is spooned up behind him, one arm wrapped tight around Ezekiel's waist. Sometimes he _almost_ likes this better than the sex, the casual, easy intimacy of it, sleeping together in the literal sense. It's comforting in a way that he never thought he'd experience again, and he can't imagine ever taking it for granted.

He's just drifting off into sleep when Ezekiel stirs in front of him, scooting backwards a little, pressing himself closer to Jenkins before settling once more. "I love you," he says, softly.

"What?" Jenkins asks, certain he must have misheard.

"What what?" Ezekiel answers back. 

"I thought you said something."

"Not me," Ezekiel replies quickly. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh." Jenkins knows better than to push it. "Sorry," he says.

"No worries."

And Jenkins kisses the back of Ezekiel's neck, waiting until his breathing evens, his body relaxes before he says, "I love you, too."


End file.
